The Wizards of Central Park West_Ultimate Urban Fantasy Read online

  “I’m on it, sir.”

  “And Eddie, I don’t have to tell you that this ratchets up your case to a totally different level. We have got to get answers, and fast. I’ve already been contacted by the mayor’s office.”

  “I will do my best, sir.”

  “I’m sure of that, lieutenant,” Jacobs asserted. “Now, get to the scene.”

  “Yes, sir.” Eddie hung up the phone.

  “You’d better finish your eggs, Eddie,” Marlowe said. “I think you’ll have a long day ahead of you.”

  Their eyes met.

  He knew, Eddie thought. He knew this was going to happen.

  Eddie pictured the spirit in his living room the previous night. Was that how Marlowe knew what was coming?

  Eddie grabbed his plate and shoveled in several mouthfuls of eggs, and followed it with a huge gulp of coffee.

  “I have to go,” Eddie said and kissed his wife.

  “But Eddie—” Cerise implored.

  “You boys work hard today. And I want you home early,” Eddie told his sons.

  “All right, Dad!” William agreed.

  “Go get ‘em, Dad!” Douglas chimed in.

  “Eddie—” Cerise repeated.

  He bent and kissed his mother on the cheek, and she reached up and patted his face.

  “Got to go, Momma.” Eddie rose from the table and nodded to Marlowe, who put on his jacket. The two men headed for the front door.

  “But, Eddie,” Cerise blurted, “where’s your car?”

  Eddie stopped and turned slowly.

  “M-my car?” Eddie regarded Marlowe for help.

  “You remember, Eddie?” Marlowe explained, nonplussed. “We took my car last night, and you suggested I park two blocks away.”

  “Yeah, that’s right,” Eddie told Cerise, relieved. “We just have to walk a couple of blocks.”

  “But, Eddie,” Cerise said, “why didn’t you park in the driveway?”

  “Uh, yeah, well, Marlowe, tell my wife why we didn’t park in the driveway.”

  “You said it would be safer.”

  “Right, right. That’s it, baby. You know, protect the witness and that…” Eddie was stumped for a moment. “Stuff.”

  Eddie looked wildly to Marlowe, and wanted to get out before he was forced to tell another lie, sure that his untruthfulness was as transparent as glass.

  Cerise impulsively grabbed Eddie in a hug.

  “Take good care of my big, black man,” she whispered in his ear.

  Eddie couldn’t help but smile. “Just going to work, baby. Same as any other day.”

  “I know.” Cerise held fast, then released him. “And I worry, like every other day.”

  Marlowe was at the door and the two men walked out of the house and into the brightening sunlight.

  They started up the block.

  “Since we’re alone,” Eddie said, “are you going to tell me about the wizard working for Abraxas, or do I have to take you to the station and interrogate you?”

  “Ever hear of a warlock, Eddie?” Marlowe said as they walked.

  “Yeah, I once watched ‘Bewitched’ on TV.”

  Marlowe gave an involuntary shudder. “You have my condolences. However, in our community—”

  “Or coven,” Eddie added.

  “Yes. A warlock is a wizard who has strayed from the path of the wise and aligned himself with evil forces.”

  In jest, Eddie covered his mouth with his hands, breathed heavily and deepened his voice. “Come to the dark side, Luke.”

  Marlowe stopped, and stared at Eddie as if he’d lost his mind. “What on earth are you doing?”

  Eddie dropped his hands. “Nothing. I forget you’re not always aware of cultural references.”

  Marlowe began to walk again.

  “I now know why the attacks occurred in Central Park. Unknown to me…well to us all, it appears there was a talisman of great power hidden there. The reason Abraxas went on the attack was to keep the wizards out. Central Park is a place of great power. You can feel it.”

  “It’s unspoiled, that makes people feel good, so what?”

  Marlowe stopped in his footsteps. “You have just stated one of the legendary inaccuracies.”

  “Huh?”

  “It is not unspoiled. It was completely man-made. The rolling hills, the wide vistas? All planned. And wizards were involved in every part of its creation, especially Greywacke.”

  Marlowe continued to walk. Eddie ran ahead, turned around, and walked backward, facing the older man as he spoke.

  “You mean your old friend, Greywacke the First?” Eddie said.

  “Yes, he was more than a prophet, he was a visionary. The arches in the park are named for famed and renowned wizards: Willowdell, Dalehead, Greyshot. One hundred and fifty years ago, Greywacke worked with the men who designed the park. It was created to be a focal point for the mystical energy in New York.”

  “From what I’ve seen so far, that would be a lot,” Eddie kept up with the older man.

  “Exactly, Eddie. Until last night I did not see the connection.”

  “What is it?”

  “There is someone I need to interrogate. Will you help me?”

  “Great, something I know how to do. What’s your theory?”

  “The attacks occurred in Central Park because a very old talisman was hidden there, unknown to all of us.” Marlowe shifted his cane into the long staff. “Think of it, Eddie. A potent charm hidden in a place of great power, where it built up energy year after year.”

  “Is that what makes Abraxas so strong?” Eddie queried as he pulled out his special card and changed it.

  “It might make him unstoppable,” Marlowe confessed, as they stepped into the woods and disappeared.

  Twenty-Six

  Luis Vasquez left the Bronx ten minutes after he received his own call from the captain. It took him forty minutes to get from his house to the 22nd Precinct using back routes. It then took him an additional ten minutes to quickly walk his lumbering body to the murder site.

  He was surprised to find his partner at the scene.

  “Hey, Eddie!” Luis said, out of breath from his stroll through the park.

  “Morning, Luis.” Eddie sat on his haunches and stared fixedly at some broken metal and what appeared to be a thumb. He didn’t raise his head. “There’s a cup of coffee for you over there,” he indicated a bench with a slight nod. “Might be cold by now.”

  “Thanks.” Luis walked over to a tree, where two cups of coffee sat. One was empty, and the other was prepared just the way Luis liked it, and was indeed cold.

  Luis sipped it anyway.

  “So,” Luis returned to where Eddie was hunkered down, “you get called hours ago?”

  “Something like that.” Eddie examined the twisted metal with his gloved hands. “I’ve been here a while.”

  “How did you get here from Jersey so fast?”

  Eddie glanced up at his large partner. He couldn’t very well tell him that he materialized only a few hundred feet away in a patch of trees.

  “Missed rush hour, I guess,” Eddie lied and returned his eyes to the ground.

  Luis took another sip and felt his bullshit detector go off again. He looked over at the statue of the bears. The shiny brass creatures were spattered with dry crimson streaks. It was as if the bears had come to life and eaten the victim.

  “What does this look like to you?” Eddie asked.

  Luis’ attention shifted to Eddie’s hands.

  “Looks like a thumb, lieutenant,” Luis said.

  “Brilliant, sergeant, I meant this.” Eddie held up one of the metal pieces in his gloved hand. Luis bent close.

  “Looks like a pistol grip and a trigger guard from a gun,” Luis ventured.

  “How about if I add this?” Eddie said, placing the other metal fragment in place.

  “It’s a handgun, all right.” Luis gave an appreciative whistle. “With a silencer! That’s no Saturday Night Special.
”

  “Serial number’s been erased, and I have a feeling it is stolen.”

  “How did it end up in pieces?” Luis asked.

  “It was cut.” To illustrate his point, Eddie folded the upper section on an imaginary hinge and brought the other piece up, then back into place.

  Luis sipped his cold coffee. After a long pause he finally spoke. “How do you cut a gun?”

  “I don’t know.” Eddie returned the pieces to the ground. “Forensics says the victim was sliced up with a sword.”

  “A sword?” Luis grunted, and took another look at all the blood and body parts flung about. “Are you kidding? You think the perp used a sword to cut that gun in half?”

  “It’s a possibility,” Eddie suggested.

  “You can’t slice a gun.”

  Eddie felt a desperate urge to tell Luis that what he thought was possible had undergone a major shift in the last three days.

  “Well, it is cut.” Eddie sighed. “And I would very much like to know how.”

  “Maybe the perp did it before he came here. Y’know, used a high powered electric saw or something, and then brought the pieces to leave here—”

  “To throw us off?”

  Luis shrugged. “It’s like you were saying yesterday. Maybe whoever is committing these murders wants to make it look like they have supernatural powers. He made it look like he cut a gun in two.”

  Eddie nodded and stood. “If you’re right, we need containment.”

  Eddie walked to a group of forensic operatives going over the hacked pieces of the corpse, followed by Luis. “We need to talk to whoever is in charge.”

  Forensic officers are not full police agents, and don’t have the same ranks. But every unit has a senior agent who runs the show. In this case, it was a short, thin white guy named Irving Feldman.

  After introductions, Eddie got right to the point. “I want the forensic evidence to go through Beverly Warren.”

  “The assistant medical examiner?” Feldman questioned, his eyes growing wide behind his glasses. “Detective—”

  “Lieutenant,” Eddie replied.

  “Very well, lieutenant, that’s not how we do things…”

  At that exact moment, Captain Jacobs arrived.

  It would have been hard to miss him, surrounded by a bevy of reporters who yelled questions as he walked. Only when he entered the cordoned off area was he able to disengage them.

  He approached the three men.

  “Lieutenant, sergeant, Feldman,” Jacobs said with a nod to each as he approached.

  “Captain,” Eddie and Luis said in unison.

  “Captain,” Feldman said as he drew near. “I’m glad you’re here. Lieutenant Berman has requested that all my data go through the medical examiner’s office.”

  Jacobs glanced over to Eddie. “Lieutenant?”

  “Not just the medical examiner’s office. I specifically want it to go to Doctor Warren.”

  “Why?” Jacobs fired back.

  “Containment, sir,” Eddie stressed. “Without going into detail, there is unusual evidence in this case. If any information found its way to the media, there could be a lot of nasty speculation. I trust Beverly, and I can work with her. What’s more, I know she’ll work with us.”

  “I must protest,” Feldman whined. “The crime scene unit has a history of—”

  Jacobs lifted his hand in one quick motion that cut the man off. “Sounds good, lieutenant. I am aware that there are sometimes more facts in the paper than we release.” He faced Irving and added, “Please act on the lieutenant’s request.”

  Feldman looked properly cowed. “Very well, sir.”

  Jacobs approached the raised platform that supported the statue, awash with caked blood, crusty and brown on the gray sidewalk.

  “All this blood,” Jacobs said. “Looks like the perp tried to redecorate the park.”

  “The body parts were spread all over the playground,” Eddie pointed out. “I just found a thumb and another man located what he believes was his…uh…organ.”

  “You mean…?” Jacobs turned his head a little toward Eddie.

  “Yes,” Eddie said.

  “Madre de Dios,” Luis muttered.

  “You were right sir, similar MO,” Eddie concluded. “Captain, when you called me, you knew who he was. How did we get the ID?”

  “According to the officer on the scene, his wallet was lying right on top of the torso, open to his UN identification card.”

  “The perp wanted us to know who he was,” Eddie considered.

  “It’s more than that, lieutenant,” Jacobs snapped. “The perp wants to rub our noses in it.”

  “He's on a power trip and wants to show us who’s in charge,” Luis said, his jaw hard.

  Sounds like our boy Abraxas, Eddie thought.

  “Everything on this goes only through my office,” Jacobs demanded. “You find out anything, I hear it first, no matter how insignificant.”

  Eddie and Luis nodded.

  “The homeless guy may have been practice,” Jacobs went on. “I want you to find out everything you can about the victim. I want to know where he lived, where he ate, and especially, what he was doing in my park in the middle of the night.”

  “Yes, sir,” Eddie replied.

  “You gentlemen are working this weekend. Let your families know.”

  Eddie made a low grunt of acquiescence.

  “Get me answers. The mayor wants to bring in the FBI and the Urban Crime Task Force."

  “This is our turf,” Luis asserted, defensively.

  “The homeless man getting hacked up didn’t attract a lot of media,” Jacobs cautioned. “That’s changed now. This is a front page crime. The press will be hounding us for answers and they will complain the longer they have to wait for results. Also, Manhattan North Homicide and the Urban Crime Task Force will want to get into the limelight.”

  “We’ll do the best we can, sir,” Eddie promised.

  “Then get me answers, the sooner the better,” Jacobs sighed. “Now I must go obfuscate the ladies and gentlemen of the press.”

  Twenty-Seven

  Friday morning was spent in a whirlwind of interviews. Eddie and Luis went to the UN building on First Avenue and 49th Street. Security required them to surrender their weapons, and go through several guarded areas with an escort until they arrived at the offices of the Japanese delegation.

  They met with several diplomats who behaved agreeably, but divulged little. Most of them spoke fluent English, and it was obvious that several wished to fill the position vacated by the deceased.

  Eddie and Luis, as they got nowhere, retrieved their weapons, and went off to the delegate’s residence. There they found a female servant who claimed in broken English that she was the cook and maid. They also located Yamasuto’s personal assistant, an anxious young man named Akio.

  They asked a couple of questions, but Akio offered little information. Instead he peered around the room nervously.

  Cop instinct has a powerful effect on men whose lives depend on its whispers. Although the young man answered questions in brief sentences, both Eddie and Luis could sense that there was an encyclopedia underneath each one. There were things he was unhappy he knew.

  As Luis sat and took notes, Eddie pulled out his cell phone and quickly called Captain Jacobs. He wanted to bring the assistant to the station and really interview him. He wanted to work on him with Luis in the good cop/bad cop roles that would break down his resistance.

  Jacobs was concerned about the assistant’s diplomatic immunity and coaxed Eddie to get as much as he could in the safe environment of the residence.

  In plain English, bureaucratic bullshit won.

  Disappointed, Eddie put on a good front and returned to his partner.

  Upon his return to the comfortable sitting room, the young man broke down, and began to speak with moderate weeping. Eddie felt the crying jag may have been induced for effect, but Akio confessed that his superior smug
gled artifacts from Japan to sell in America.

  It took a while to calm him, but they were finally able to coax him to go into detail.

  Eddie began to get a clearer picture of Yamasuto. Akio was afraid that whoever killed his employer would come after him, because he’d seen the small figurine that was supposed to be delivered to the buyer the previous night.

  They took time and got Akio to describe the figure in detail. They even asked him to draw what he’d seen. Akio surprised them by demonstrating the talent of a gifted artist. He drew a very detailed reproduction of the statuette with nothing more than a piece of typing paper and a pencil.

  “Do you have any idea who the buyer was?” Luis asked, continuing the role of the gruff bad cop.

  Akio nodded and opened up a small date book. In it were notes written in Japanese.

  “Does this have all of Mr. Yamasuto’s transactions?”

  Akio nodded. “Yes, in code.”

  Luis looked over his shoulder. “Looks more like chicken scratch.”

  “It is Japanese, but unreadable if you do not know the key.”

  “And you do?” Eddie said.

  “I have been with Mr. Yamasuto for five years,” Akio said. “He was a good employer and I wish to help catch his killer.”

  “Who was the appointment last night?” Eddie said.

  “If I read it correctly, I believe that it was a person named Cuccolo,” Akio said.

  Luis and Eddie exchanged a glance.

  “Alfonso Cuccolo?” Luis queried.

  “I do not know. There is only the one name,” Akio answered.

  Quickly, Eddie called the precinct and requested a uniformed officer to watch the diplomatic residence.

  “Let us know if you can name any other buyer in the last six months,” Eddie said, and gave the young man a business card while they bolted for the door.

  Eddie and Luis drove back to the "22" and parked the car.

  “I need to walk, come on,” Eddie said, as they got out of the car. Luis followed. It was a sunny day, not too hot, and the fresh, clean air made the world feel alive. But Eddie was oblivious. His body walked through the beauty of the Great Lawn, but his mind was elsewhere.

  “Can you believe,” Eddie pondered, “that all of this was created?”